Accessory
by Lily Thorne
Summary: A collection of MxS drabble, ranging from the fluffy to the angsty.
1. Cute

"See you tomorrow," he said nonchalantly, the way he did every day. I was in my third year of high school, and Miroku had transferred into my school not too long ago. He was cute and funny, even if he _was_ a bit of a pervert. We got along well, most of the time.

The bell had just rung, signalling the end of the day. After bowing to our sensei, there was a flurry of activity as everyone packed up. In that flurry, I just barely caught his routine farewell, and didn't notice him move until he was right in front of me. It was lucky for us that sensei had her back turned, because just at that moment, he leaned in and gave me a quick kiss.

Now _that_ was a surprise.

I froze, too shocked to do anything but blush. Before I knew it, he was gone – lost in the crowd. I stood there for a moment, my mind reeling. Where had that come from? I had known him for a few months now, and this…well…this was (obviously) unexpected.

Someone clapped me on the back gently, and I looked over my shoulder to see Kagome smiling at me.

"You might want to talk to him," she suggested absently, before waving and departing into the hallway. It took me a moment to realize what she had said. When I did, though, I grabbed my bag and rushed out into the hall to look for him. He hadn't gotten too far; he was just at the end of the hallway.

I elbowed my way though the herd until I stood at his side. Tapping his shoulder, I got his attention, and his disarming smile. Why did that smile look so different to me now? Surely one little kiss couldn't make that big a change in how I percieved him.

"What was that?" I asked, grateful that my voice wasn't cracking or shaking. He dipped his head again, stealing another kiss.

"You mean that?" he asked mischievously. I blushed harder, and nodded. Someone rushed past us, knocking my books from my hands. I gasped and knelt to pick them up, only to find him right there helping. As we gathered my scattered belongings, he answered.

"Because I wanted to," Miroku told me, as if it was the most casual thing in the world. We stood, and he handed me my last book, along with a third kiss. My blush deepened – if that was possible.

"I suppose that one was because you wanted to as well?" I said, hoping that the joke would ease the weird tension gnawing at my stomach. It didn't.

He shook his head.

"No," he replied. "That one's because you're cute when you blush."

With that, he disappeared through the doors, leaving me to stand in pleasant shock until someone jarred me into moving through those same doors and closer to him.

* * *

Well…I wouldn't call this one short enough to be drabble, nor is it long enough to really be a one-shot. So I don't know what it is, but it's cute. I liked writing it. It's alleviating the tension of working on Beauty and the Beast. By the way…does anyone get the symbolism in the last line? I hope so…

Disclaimer: If I owned Inuyasha, I wouldn't have to write fanfiction.


	2. Interview

"Kyaa! I'm so late!" Sango cried, running around her apartment frantically.

"I should've been out the door ten minutes ago!"

She rushed about, collecting her purse and the articles that had spilled out of it in her haste the afternoon before (she had almost missed the bus, something that was becoming frustratingly common). Her hair was only half-pinned and she wore one earring. The other was clutched in her hand as she dropped wallet, tissue, keys etc. into her handbag.

"If I miss this interview, I'm dead! I don't have time for breakfast. Not even a glass of water, dammit…"

She stopped for only half a second, her mind processing something. Then she started up again, going full throttle and then some. Her purse filled, she began rummaging through the closet for shoes and coat with one hand, trying to put her earring in with the other. It wasn't working.

"I can't believe this! Why didn't I wake up in time? Oh, _please_ let the other interview run late…Oh my lord! My teeth! I haven't even brushed my teeth! That's so gross! But I don't have time…if I'm lucky I can make the bus at the bottom of the hill. But eew…oh heavens, I'm gonna die. My breath is probably terrible, and to top it all off I'm late! Why me-_ee_! Mmph…"

Miroku, who had been watching all of this with cool amusement, had grabbed Sango by the shoulders and spun her around to give her a slow, sweet kiss. When he pulled away from the considerably quieted woman, he smiled.

"Your breath is fine."

* * *

Just a little drabble that popped into my head the other day. I didn't even bother to get it BETA'd…Bad me… 


	3. Last Minute

Saving me.

Saving us. Appearing from nowhere. Coming up with a new plan.

Considering all the things you do at the last minute, I should have been ready for this. But even I thought we had more time.

I was prepared for the kazaana. I had even tricked myself into believing that I was prepared for Someone Else. And after all these years, in the very back of my mind, I was prepared for this. Call it 'habitual thought'. But I'd never _ever_ acknowledged it.

_'Thank heavens you weren't saving me…'_

I don't even know how it got under your guard – you're so much better than that. I know, I fought you. Do you remember? I didn't hold back (not that I could have if I wanted to) and you still bested me. So how did this happen? It's dead now – you can thank Inuyasha for that. He and Kagome are getting Kaede, please wait until they get back. He wants to yell at you for being stupid. Quite frankly, so do I. There's blood everywhere – not all of it belongs to the demon.

_'We were supposed to have _years_.'_

You keep pushing me away – another thing I should be used to. You've done it enough. Trying to keep me away from death incarnate. But even you had to give in to this, didn't you? You said you'd never forget. I won't. You should know by now there's no keeping me away. If it takes you, then it takes me as well. I know that you won't be able to hold it back. Don't worry about everyone else – Kaede's hut is far from here.

_'They won't be here in time.'_

A hand – your hand – grabs me. I'm not kneeling next to you anymore. Do you remember the last time we were like this? You were playing, then. Can't you be playing now? Reach out and grope me. I'll still slap you, that way we can both know everything's all right. But you've got your arm around my waist, and your hand isn't slipping. Stop looking at me with those eyes. I don't want to see that color fade away. I don't want to watch the spark die, and those marvelous eyes go shallow. Stop brushing off my delusions, stop binding me to reality. Stop scaring me.I'm bracing myself on your damp chest – you shifted too quickly. I wonder why blood is so sticky…

Beads click, I feel your fingers running through my hair. I hate that. I've never liked people playing with my hair. Even as a little girl, I'd swat at anyone who tried it. But you don't know that. How can you? You never had time to learn. That same beaded hand slides through my hair – why isn't it tangled? – and grabs the back of my neck.

It doesn't feel like a kiss. Not that I would know. It's more like an affirmation. The thorny flower setting barbs deeper into my heart.

_stab_. You really are done this time.

_stab_. You really do care.

_stab_. You won't ever see twenty children playing in the grass.

Maybe I knew that all along. I don't want to know. I can't taste anything but blood. The bitter taste suits me well.

"You always leave everything to the last minute, don't you, Houshi-sama?"

* * *

I make no apologies. I really don't think it's that bad. It's not a tearjerker (in my opinion). I don't even know if it makes sense. It's another shortfic. I wrote it really late the other night, because I had this image burning into my mind of a rather bloody Miroku kissing Sango hard and fast, then pushing her away so that she wouldn't be consumed by the kazaana. Hachi flying her out of there was part of it, too. And then the last minute thing was just…I don't know.

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

…I'm getting really tired of saying that.


	4. Misinterpreted

The sound of hand across cheek cut through the air. Nobody bothered to look back. What had happened was obvious – it wasn't a rare occurrence. Or rather, it was, but when it did happen no one worried. They'd be laughing together by the time the travelers stopped for the night.

"Sukebe…" a dark-eyed young woman muttered under her breath, her expression one of resignation. The kitten on her shoulder mewed in agreement.

They reached a village – one of the ones plagued by demons and scattered at exactly the right intervals to attract weary anime characters before the first commercial. They paid for room and board only because the monk wasn't with them when they bunked down. He had disappeared not long after they arrived.

The resignation felt by the young woman deepened.

The innkeeper's explanation for the minimal supper wasn't out of the ordinary either. The demon plaguing this particular village stuck to attacking the fields, apparently preferring the taste of vegetables to flesh. It ignored all attempts to discourage it – mind you, these were limited to rocks thrown by bold children.

A pretty girl in odd clothing offered to solve the problem; to the annoyance of the hanyou travelling with them. She subdued him quickly, and accepted the innkeeper's thanks.

The monk was still nowhere to be found.

The oddly-dressed girl kissed the forehead of a sleeping kitsune as she, the hanyou, and the other young woman left for the fields early the next morning. They were ready for battle, but not expecting anything too difficult. The fields were heavy with mist, the sort that stuck to hair and clothing and soaked through to the bone – the sort that caused you to stumble on the moisture condensing in the grass and beneath your feet in your sandals. The sort that made vision difficult – so difficult that the women could not see their hands in front of their faces. The oddly dressed young woman was riding piggyback with the hanyou, and the other rode atop a large demon-cat.

The dark-eyed young woman maintained that she could take care of it herself, but this was met with a scoff from the hanyou. He refused to be left out of the action. The young woman sent him a fierce look, and repeated her request to take care of it herself. The hanyou backed down.

It was as she had suspected – nothing big. She had been right to leave the neko behind; it wasn't even worth the effort the demon would put forth. A wavering shape that didn't even reach her waist had formed in the mist. When she slipped around behind it, the form moved, and she could only assume it had glanced up, not that it could see her. The young woman raised her weapon to kill it.

By the time she realized that it was a shakujo which caused the blaze of pain that ran from her left shoulder to the bottom of her ribs all Sango could see was white.

Miroku stepped out of the mist, and looked for the demon's corpse.

* * *

I wrote this while listening to Keith Urban, so I apologize for how it turned out. I assure you, it's not at all what I intended. The original inspiration was "She's Gotta Be" but then when it changed tone in my mind; it became "Tonight I Wanna Cry". In case there's any confusion, Miroku went searching for the demon – that's why he was gone.

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha – and if this story is any indication we can all be very thankful for that.


	5. Salve

It's bright as they walk along the river, just the two of them. The warm sun filters through the glimmering leaves to cast patches of light on their skin. A neko pads along a little behind them, stopping to sniff this patch of grass or that fallen leaf. The jangle of the rings on his shakujo keeps a steady rhythm with their steps – not that it's heard over the talk of the houshi and the taiji-ya.

Their conversation wanders, as it is wont to do, over to the business of demon extermination. The dark-eyed taiji-ya pulled a shell from under her shoulder guard, and they are discussing the contents.

"I've never seen you use it," the houshi says, warm eyes lingering on the woman's face before inspecting the salve.

"I've actually never had to," she admits. "It's more of a just-in-case thing."

"Really? I'd think you'd use it an awful lot."

"Well, for one thing, it's pretty potent, and for another, you don't want to become dependant on it. You should be able to live with your pain. Not to mention it's dangerous not to be able to feel the injury – how would you know how bad it is?"

He pauses for a moment, thinking.

"So then, what's the scenario that you keep it for, 'just in case'?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. She looks grimly at him.

"So that the victim won't know how bad the injury is."

He nods, looking ahead of them. There's a pregnant pause between them, neither of them wanting to think of a situation where a wound would be that serious. The tension breaks when the neko hops up onto her mistress' shoulder and licks her cheek. The taiji-ya laughs, petting the little demon, and the houshi looks at her softly. He likes to see her smile.

The darkness past, he asks what it's made from, and she shrugs.

"A couple of herbs I don't know the name of, and the venom of a snake demon who paralyzes its prey."

He looks startled, and laughs. The taiji-ya stared at him for a moment in confusion, and shrugs it off. She probably didn't want to know…

---

I originally wrote this as a stand alone, but you'll find it also as a flashback in something I'm working on at the moment. It's really very pointless, all I wanted to show was the idea that Sango and Miroku's relationship extends beyond the fluff, or the grope – SMACK! routine that is their signature. I think that my favourite part of the whole piece is Sango's line about the venom. It's so matter-of-fact. And as for why I'm posting this? Just a way to tide people over until 'In Sight' or the next chapter of 'Tatterdemalion' – both of which are taking, well, _forever_.

Disclaimer: You know this already, don't you? I don't own Inuyasha.


	6. Sun Kissed

Sango gave a little sigh of contentment. She was sprawled in the grass, on her back, with the sun gently massaging away her worries. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands behind her head. Truly, this was perfection. Everything relaxed, the test next period was suddenly forgotten, as was the presentation after that. Right now, none of that mattered. Nothing could be more perfect than this.

The young man next to her smiled softly at her catlike form. She was _beautiful_. Especially when she was lying in the sun, her mind away from this world. Deftly, Miroku leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the lips – the tiniest of pecks, really.

In an instant, Sango was sitting upright, her face a brilliant shade of pink. Her confused eyes met his mischievous blue ones, and he chuckled.

"Now that I have your attention," the youth said, pulling her into his lap and prising her lips apart with his own ever so slowly. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and Sango made no move to stop it. In fact, her response could almost have been called encouraging. When finally her comanion took his face from hers, he saw that her (adorable) blush had deepened. And it was his fault. His smile widened.

She made a face at him and his lazy smirk, and nestled deeper into his arms – muttering darkly of giving him more attention than he could handle.

---

It is a little OOC, I will admit, but I couldn't resist. It's nothing special, just (yet) another bit of randomness, albeit a disgustingly cute one. Written because I needed fluff, and because neither _Tatterdemalion_ or_ In Sight_ are at fluffy points right now. Far from it, actually...

Disclaimer: Suppose I have to face facts…I just don't own Inuyasha.


	7. Crossed Wires

"So who're we playing tomorrow?" I asked him, rubbing my still-sore cheek. Sango and I had played our little game again earlier that day. I didn't understand, really, though at the same time I knew exactly why she had been upset. Inuyasha had dropped tickets on my desk, grumbling about the fact that Kagome had no interest in baseball. I was so overjoyed to have the opportunity to see a home game that I didn't bother to see who we were up against. Instead I swept her into my arms, looked into her eyes, and asked her to the game.

It was a valid question. We'd been dodging around actually getting together for some time now, and I was getting tired of it. In retrospect, though, perhaps grabbing her had been the wrong move – especially after what had happened at lunch that day. So now it was Inuyasha accompanying me to the game, as a 'guy's night'. Not exactly what I'd had in mind.

"Hanshin," Inuyasha told me, and I laughed.

"It's a guaranteed win, then, I suppose."

Being the number one team playing against the number two team gives you that sort of cockiness. I don't know if Inuyasha said anything after that, because a fuzzy, female voice staggered over the line, quickly followed by another.

_"…at the…you know?"_

_"So? That doesn't…ight to do someth…that!"_

Voice recognition is not my best area, but her voice is one I'd know in a crowded concert hall, next to the speaker, during the loudest song. Not that she cares about that. I'm not in her good books right now, if I ever was. The other voice was easy to guess after that, especially when Inuyasha blurted out her name. I couldn't figure out what the issue was, why we could hear their voices, until I reminded myself that we both spoke on cordless phones. This wasn't an everyday occurrence, but it was possible.

"I think it's Kagome-sama, all right," I said. "And Sango."

Even Inuyasha didn't need to be told to shut up, we both went silent so we could hear the girls as best we could.

_"…abbed my ass! And hers… same ti…believe Miroku's nerve?"_

_"Yes."_

_"I'm rea…makes m…anna scream!"_

_"…ecause you care abo…even though he's…?"_

"What did you do?" Inuyasha asked, clueless to the importance of Sango's answer. "You must've really pissed her off this time."

"Shut up!" I growled, listening carefully. I had the gist of the conversation. This was probably immoral and wrong on some level in some way, but I didn't care. I needed to hear what she said. My phone beeped warningly, reminding me that it had been a long time since it sat on the charger. I willed it to hold on a little longer.

_"…ear something?"_ she said, which wasn't what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear her say yes! Or no! Anything would do, so long as it was an answer! We'd been playing cat-and-mouse for some time now, and I wasn't sure if I was the hunter, or the hunted. I was always a little off my game with her, and I wanted desperately to know what she thought of me.

_"don't avo…stion, Sango-chan."_

Kagome's voice was still light and teasing, though I think she knew the importance of what she asked. She was a smart young woman, after all. A long silence followed, and I feared we had been cut off from them, until a single, quiet syllable filtered through our crossed wires.

_"…es."_

My world tilted. The phone in my hand beeped a little two-note swan song and died, but I hardly noticed. Something – pride, a little, and joy, swelled in me, and I smiled. No more games.

---

I tugged down the hem of my skirt, giving a little shiver. It was cold that morning, and I was getting tired of waiting for Kagome. I wasn't overjoyed about our conversation that night, and I was worried that she might try to put me together with Miroku in some odd, 'accidental' sort of way now that she knew.

I hated caring about him. I hated it so damn much. After all, if I didn't care, then it wouldn't sting every time he flirted with Hayazaka-san from class D. I don't think he'd be half as bad if he didn't know it bothered me. At the same time, he can't help it, really. It's part of his natural charm.

Kagome wasn't even there that day, actually. She was home sick, or so I heard. Personally, I think it might've had something to do with Inuyasha going to the hospital for stitches after he pulled some dumbass stunt during a motorcycle race with Sesshoumaru. But that's not important. Nothing is so important as that morning, when Miroku walked onto school grounds and made a beeline for me.

Too much to hope, I supposed, that he was coming to apologize for being such a jerk the day before. Didn't have time for much more, though, before he was right there in front of me.

Gently, he rubbed my cheek with his thumb, before he leaned down and kissed me. His lips were a little chapped, but all the same it was soft and sweet, and utterly honest.

Suddenly, I wasn't cold anymore.

That didn't change the fact that he had just kissed me. I won't lie, I did like it. In fact, I probably wouldn't have minded if he hadn't pulled away quite so quickly. But still, to all of a sudden lean in and try something like…that was a little much, and I slapped him. He hit the ground none too gently, and I glared at him until I saw the hurt in his eyes. He was smiling, same as always, but he had put all his cards out on the table and I had walked away from the game. Our game.

I knelt down, offering a hand to help him up. He grabbed my hand and stood, but before he could say anything I leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek.

There. I'd done it. My cheeks flaming, I fled into the school.

Miroku stood there for a moment as Sango rushed towards the building before he followed her with a smile. Maybe he'd buy a few more phones, if this was what would happen when they crossed wires.

---

Short, sweet, mostly to satisfy my need to write, since Tatterdemalion is being evil. . Oh and by the way, the Tigers won the game (because underdogs rock XD).


	8. First

Because talking about your feelings doesn't always help.

---

She leaned against the back of the tree, and turned her gaze skyward. Once again, they had failed. She had failed. Her brother was still enspelled by Naraku, and there was nothing she could do.

Kagome was with Inuyasha, helping Kaede tend a serious wound. They had all fought hard, and had it not been for the sudden appearance of Sesshoumaru, the battle may have ended much differently. As it was, it would be a long while before they were prepared to face the malicious hanyou in battle again.

But at the moment, Sango didn't care. The last image of her brother haunted her. His eyes terrified and saddened her. They were shallow pools of murky detachment, unaware and uncaring of the atrocities comitted. They were not her brother's eyes.

It was late, thank God, and the others were either asleep or otherwise occupied. Kirara was curled at her feet, a wobbly sort of consciousness slowly giving way to the need for sleep. She was alone. Miroku had woven a barrier around their camp, but hiraikotsu leaned at her side should she need it. But she didn't want to fight.

A sickly sort of fear, cold and watery, had pooled inside her chest - followed closely by an indescribable sadness that outweighed everything. The love for her brother was irreconsilable, tempered by her knowledge of who he was, and how much it would hurt him if he ever found out what he had done. He was not a violent soul, indeed, she had wondered many times if he would not be better suited to another life, other than the one of a demon slayer. An apothecary, perhaps, or a healer. Mind you, that was no longer his choice, especially not now. And there was nothing she could do to help him.

Tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked, and she buried her face in her hands. The weight of her brother's enslavement was building with each passing day that she did not save him. She didn't know how much longer she would be able to bear it. It was only at rare times like these, in the silent seclusion of the night that she could let herself mourn for a brother that might not even exist any longer.

Sango did not hear the footsteps until they were behind her, and she looked up sharply, grabbing hiraikotsu. Miroku stepped forward to face her, and she gasped.

"Houshi-sama, I…"

She was at a loss for words. So was he apparently, and she began to blott at her tearstained face with her sleeve. He sighed, and she met his eyes. She had half-expected them to be filled with pity - she was thankful they were not. She doubted she could have faced his sympathy at a time like this. They held, rather, a resounding respect and concern, which warmed her more than the deepest compassion could have.

He reached out and cupped her cheek, the movement carrying more than just affection. Her eyes fluttered shut as the quiet moment expanded to include him. Miroku leaned in gently, and pressed his lips to hers in a soothing motion. Her hand slid from hiraikotsu's strap, and pressed itself over the hand that stroked her cheek.

Speech wasn't necessary, at that moment. He understood, and that was all she needed. His other arm slid around her waist as they broke apart, and she leaned against him for a long while after that, until the soft dawn of a day when she could try again began to slip through the trees.

---

Because first kisses are always cute, and when asked what I thought that there first kiss should look like, this is what I came up with. So thanks (and damnation) go to J, for asking me that question.


	9. Early

Sango sighed and closed her locker, watching the stream of her classmates filter out into the winter sun. It was Christmas break, finally. No more exams, teachers, presentations, or perverts looking up her uniform skirt (for at least three weeks).

"Sango!"

Well, scratch that last one.

She turned around to see Miroku Shizu making his way towards her, smiling charmingly. She smiled back, feeling a warm-cold sensation build in her stomach. Sango ignored it as he stopped in front of her, hands clasped behind his back.

"Ready for the holidays, Sango?" he asked.

"More or less," she said. It was just her and Kohaku, as well as Kagome and her family (which had, as of recently, spread to include the reluctant Inuyasha).

They put on their coats, and walked out into the chilly air. There was no snow on the ground - there never was, but it was cool enough that Miroku pulled out a pair of mittens as well.

"Wanna hold that for a second?" he asked impishly, tossing her a well-wrapped box labelled 'for Sango'. She blinked, and went red.

"Ah…thanks,"she muttered, looking at her shoes. What an odd little scuff mark… He watched her happily, and then warned her not to open it until Christmas.

"You'll spoil the fun if you do!" he chirped.

"I…didn't get you anything," she half-apologized. He stopped moving in front of the gates to his house, as did she.

"What I want doesn't come in a box," he told her quietly, and the leaned in, pressing warm lips to hers in a soft gesture of affection. She nearly forgot to hold onto the box, being pleasantly shocked by the early gift he was giving her.

---

Crap-tastic ending, but I couldn't find anything else. Any conjectures on what's in the box? (Does anyone care?) I never did figure that out, so I'm curious as to what people think.

And for those who don't worry so much about political corectness, a plain and simple Merry Christmas to you. Oh! And a special Happy Yule to SHUlover11, who is entirely too exciteable, and will be getting a heterosexual bookmark someday soon.


	10. Knowing You

I'd never understood the idea of a fine line between love and hate. It seemed to me that it was a pretty clear distinction - either you loved someone, or you didn't. How could someone who brought you so much joy cause pain at the same time? There was no logic to it. Sure, I'd loved until it hurt, but that's not the same thing. I'm talking about the whole notion of 'so in love I can't eat, can't sleep, fly me to the moon so I can take off your helmet and kill you'. After all, if the one you loved had a godawful habit (like humming off-key while cleaning) wasn't the love supposed to make those same habits cute? I automatically dismissed it as angsty/romantic nonsense.

It was a windy afternoon, the kind I love most. Late September winds carrying a promise of chilled frost in November, cool enough that I needed a jacket but warm enough for the long, crimson skirt I had bought at the flea market. Strands of my hair were seduced from their tie by the wind, and stroked my face even as I pulled the tickling curls behind an ear. Every time I did more hair slipped away, teasing the nape of my neck, my cheeks, and getting in my eyes.

My seat atop the monkey bars was an odd one for a twenty-something University student like myself, but pleasant nonetheless. I had always been small for my age, and hadn't grown so big as to cause the equipment to break. Few people were around to stare (not that I cared when they did) and I allowed myself to get lost in my memories. Time-faded faces of old friends, old enemies, playground wars and almost weekly visits to Principal Ashura danced through my mind like a private picture show, and I smiled. Bracing myself with my hands, I leaned back so that I hung upside down, supported only by my firm grip on the bar and my knees. The tie popped out of my hair, letting the tumbling, frizzy mess fall free. _Let it_, I thought. _Why should I care?_

I opened my eyes for a moment, and my mouth formed a tiny 'o' of awe. I could see the sunrise over the cityscape, the silhouette of a hundred buildings contrasting the soft glow behind it. Pink clouds fading to white lolled in the sky, tempted downwards by the deep golden-rose tint of the sky. The barest hint of blue still shone at the top, quietly giving way to the moon that wasn't quite there yet.

A shock of silver flowed past my vision, and I was jarred from my reverie. I went to turn and look, but had forgotten about my precarious suspension from the monkey bars. With a graceless squawk, I tumbled off the bars into the soft, stinging sand below. As I flailed in a worthless (and pathetic) attempt to regain my grip, a sandal flew off my foot and connected with the stranger's head at about the same time I ate sand. Spitting the grains out and swearing, I stood to collect my shoe and slink away - only to find myself face to face with the man whom I had beaned with my flip-flop.

He reached forward and dusted some of the sand off my cheek. His amber eyes locked with mine, but even though I was certain he could see everything about me, his eyes were like polished glass. There was nothing behind them, no feeling. I felt my face growing hot with embarrassment - for my fall, and for the fact that I couldn't stop staring and _say_ something. With only the slightest smirk, he handed me my sandal and turned away. The moment was broken, and I regained the ability to speak.

"Serves ya right for making me fall," I said accusingly. Briefly I wondered if I gave myself a concussion when I fell, to have said that. He paused for only a moment before he kept walking.

"Don't blame others for your own ineptitude," he told me over his shoulder. I was suddenly furious - how dare he? He didn't know a thing about me! Part of me knew that I started this, but I didn't really care. That wasn't the issue at the moment; it was Mr. Pretentious.

I pulled on the sandal and hopped after him.

"Excuse me? Who the fuck are you, talkin' to me like that?"

He didn't respond, and I moved a little faster, grabbing his shoulder to spin him around and give him hell. Maybe even make him cry a little (Hey - I'd done it before).

"Hey, buddy, I asked you a -"

He grabbed my arm and I was up against a birch tree faster that I could keep up with everything. His face hadn't changed a bit, except that there was now annoyance behind his eyes. He said nothing, only looked over the length of my body before stepping back.

I was suddenly curious. There was a distinctly…detached feeling to the look that he had given me. Most men who look at me that way get their asses handed to them but this was different. Not only was the look rather non-sexual, I wasn't so sure at that point that I wasn't the one who'd end up getting hurt if I tried anything. This was a new feeling - one worth exploring a little. I smiled, showing my teeth.

"Sorry," I said absently, extending my hand. He glanced at it for a moment, as if he was unsure of what I wanted him to do with it, before giving me a proper handshake. I flipped his hand over, and dug a pen out of my skirt pocket (I have to admit, I was amazed it was still there). Quickly I wrote my number on his palm. He waited for me to finish before withdrawing the hand, and raising his eyebrow.

"Th' name's Kagura," I said as I collected my purse and began to leave. "Gimme a call sometime."

To my complete and utter shock, it was a little under a week later that I heard from him. Introducing himself initially in a dry voice (that I would later learn was him being amusing) as 'the man you assaulted in the park', I learned his proper name to be Sesshoumaru shortly thereafter. We met for coffee a few times, and I was surprised to find that I was drawn to this quiet, irritatingly calm man. He wasn't much older than I was, and I enjoyed his silence most of the time. It was oddly…soothing to not have to converse. Many of my friends (Jakotsu comes to mind) were rambunctious, overexcited children trapped in the bodies of University students. Sesshoumaru was nothing like them, and I liked him even more for it. As time wore on, one of our most common pastimes was laying on my overstuffed sofa, my head in his lap. We each read our own books (textbooks or otherwise), and said not a word to each other. Our relationship has continued in a similar vein to this day, four years later. He still manages to irritate and soothe me all at once in the space of a hour, and I'm sure I do the same to him (or at least that I'm irritating).

So here I am, my own most hated cliché. I love Sesshoumaru as much as I hate him. There are times I want to tie him to the back of a pickup and drive down a freshly paved road in the middle of August. And there are times when just a look from him can make a bad day perfectly good again. Even when we kiss, it isn't always soft and loving. He's no more afraid of breaking me than I am of scratching him too hard. I've kissed him so hard his lips were bruised, pouring frustration and anger out in a way that required no words (not that we speak often anyway).

Today's not our anniversary - not officially. It's four years to the day that I assaulted him with a flip-flop (I still own the pair, and the skirt). I remember because it also happens to be the day before my birthday. I've never spoken to him about it, and I actually feel a little stupid even remembering it. That's the behavior of silly, flippant little things. Girls who buy their men cute cards on Valentine's Day, and who get cute cards on White Day. I am neither. In fact…I believe I forgot last Valentine's Day, until I saw Jakotsu wrapping something unmentionable for his latest lover.

Sesshoumaru walks into our flat, and hangs up his coat. It's the same reliable routine every time. He comes in, hangs his jacket, and goes to the kitchen to cook supper. I do the dishes (my cooking kills) and we curl up on the couch to read or work or watch TV. As I watch him with a nonchalant smile, a tiny box flies my way. It nearly slips behind the couch, but I catch it.

"I assume you can make the necessary preparations. All I ask is that we have a minimal number of people."

I raise my eyebrow, and open the box. Nestled in shadowy velvet is a thin band of gold, inlaid with two small (and one large) diamonds. My heartbeat quickens, but my voice is still calm. I've learned a thing or two from Zen!Sesshoumaru over the years.

"Aren't you supposed t' ask me? I mean, that's pretty pretentious, just thinkin' I'll say yes."

He looks at me over his shoulder as he pulls a pot down from the rack above the counter.

"Is that a no?" he asks, impassive as always. He sounds for all the world as if he was asking if I wanted bread or salad with dinner. I know better by now, he's not fooling me. There's a lot riding on this question, and the bastard already knows the answer. That's what I get for letting him in.

"You won't be rid of me that easy," I tease, the ring already around my finger. All I get is a brief nod, and he returns to preparing our evening meal. I smile, and head for the phone in our bedroom with the intention of screaming like a two-year-old on sugar. He has that effect on me.

---

Y'all had to see this coming. After all, it was Valentine's day recently. This, I will admit, is a bit of a deviation from my usual obsession with M/S, but I think I like this pairing almost as much (if not more). Enjoy!


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